p s 

^554-5 




U €tty of T$ 
and Otber Poems 




, a » i3y « • » 

rredericK Milton Willis 




ClassiS354^_ 

B00kX.5j!a4(l5_ 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSiT. 




Quiet the lake 

Lay. — The Demon. 



THE CITY OF IS 

AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 



FREDERICK MILTON WILLIS 



Frontispiece Dy Ernest C. Piexotlo 



Mercury Press 

Odd Fellows Building 

San Francisco, California 




Quiet the lake 
Lay. — 



The Demon. 



THE CITY OF IS 

AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 



FREDERICK MILTON WILLIS 



Frontispiece by Ernest C. Piezotlo 



Price Si.oo 



11 5 > ->•> 

) » » a » 






Mercury Press 

Odd Fellows Building 

San Francisco, California 



THE LIBRAFJVOF 
CONGRESS. 

Two Copies Receivers 

SEP 10 »903 

Copyright Entr> 
CUSS^ Ciy XXc No 

yr93ox 

COPY B. 






COPYRIGHT, 1903, 
BY FREDERICK MII.TON WILI^LS 



* • • 



DEDICATION. 

To California — California the beautiful, California the 
potentially surpassingly intellectual and spiritual,— 
does the author, looking with awe into the dim future, 
lovingly dedicate these his first glimmerings of feelings 
of beauty and gropings of thoughts of rational interpre- 
tation of Outer and Inner. 

Would that they might be considered aspiring 
streamers, however tenuous, however indefinite and 
unsubstantial, forerunning the coming day — leading in, 
in company goodlier than themselves, the host of 
brilliant ones of the great era of light that lieth before 
this western Greece which shall be more than Greece-^ 
California. 

Berkelev, California. F. M. W. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

The City of Is i 

Rich as the Falling of Night lo 

Saloethe 1 1 

To Age 17 

The Triumph of Love 18 

America, Land of the New Age 22 

Through the Valley of Nil 23 

Civil Anguish — 27 

The Mystic 33 

Interpretation, or a Stroll in a Garden 34 

Man's Proper Element 38 

The Demon 39 

Oh, the Free Air's the Mansion to Live in ! 56 

The Watcher 60 

Soul- Blindness 65 

Excess 66 

Love-Sonnet 67 

The Dawn of Hope 68 

Self Comprehension 71 

Fire 72 

Supremacy 74 

O Father of Light! 76 

Star Worlds 79 

Flee, Flee, O My Soul! 81 



PAGK 

Mother of the Sky 84 

The Price 85 

Illusion 87 

A Vision of Degrees.. 92 

Consolation 93 

lyOve 94 

What Gives the Sufferer Strength ? 95 

The Incomplete 96 

Sorrow-Laden , 97 

Turn, oh Turn those E^^es upon Me! 98 

Waltham and Margra 99 



THE CITY OF IS> 

Within the mystic spirit-sphere^ 
Where do appear and disappear 
Myriad things of space and time, 
There's a silent, wondrous clime, 
Where every day is almost night — 
A clime, at best, of gray twilight. 

Tlie lone traveler, traveling here. 

Whoe'er he be, has much to fear, 

And his must be a snail-like pace, 

For 'tis a dismal, dismal place, 

A place of never-lifting fogs, 

Of gloomy pools witli bordering bogs 

Drooped o'er by many a venomous tree, 

A place of swoon and lethargy, 

A place of dire inclemency, 

A place of hateful clogs and stresses,— 

Oh, woe to him that onward presses 

Through its perilous wildernesses I 

^Pronounced as if spelled Iss. 



thK ciI^y of is 

But, thoiigli the yiGlding, mossy ground 
Oft prove quagmire, seeming sound; 
And though the delicate cress-like grasses 
Knot, and trip him as he passes; 
And tliough misshapen, dripping trees 
l^^ach out leaf-hidden liinl)S and seize, 
Ijike tentacles, his slirinking flesh; 
And though l)efore, l)eside him fresh 
lni])ressions form and quickly fade — 
Of feet — l)y nothing inortal made; 
And though with dainty, glove-like toucli 
Many an unseen liand with much 
Deliberation stroke h\^ cheek 
Or. witli persistent pressure, urge 
Him to some fearful hollow's verge, 
Let not the fainter-hearted shriek. 
Let not the firmer heart despair, — 
For this humid, lethal air 
And this dark, miasmal land 
Contain a city, rich and grand, 
One Avhose lofty, jealous Avails 
Enclose the haughtiest kingly halls. 
Proud temples, palaces and towers 
(Prouder, haughtier far, than ours). 
Whose verv slightest glistening spire 



THE CITY OF IS 

Doth seem to pierce the sky, in fire 
(The gentle slvv, in silver fire) ; 
Whose golden domes and minarets 
And pinnacles and parapets^ 
From the shade and vapor there, 
Seem part of Earth and part of Air. 
And thither from the wilds ahout 
Lead many ways, but none without 
Its open gold-and-marble gate 
Where sphinxes dream and calculate 
And, with a calm naught can dispel^ 
Guard tlr Eternal Secret well. 

Ere entering, let the Stranger stay 
A moment and the prospect weigh : 
Beyond, a Karnak-pillared alley 
Leads inward far, majestically. 
And in l)road stretclies, either side. 
Great temple-archways open wide; 
And darkening coliimncnl ]nissageway 
Form many an eye-perplexing maze; 
And here and tliere, aloft, are seen, 
Above high roofs that intervene, 
Grand porticoes of polished stone — 
The blackest, whitest, ever known — - 



TIIK CITY OF IS 

That open into iiol)lo lialls 
And long, curved galleries with walls 
Of crystal and liglit balustrade 
Of finest alabaster made. 

Xow down that deep, dark Karnak-alley 

Leading in niajesticallv. 

Let the Stranger take his way 

And let his feelings have full play 

In the solitude sublime 

Of this town entombed in time. 

O'er its seeming permanence 

And Avealth of wild magnificence: — 

Its mingling of the rich moresque 

With the graceful arabesque; 

Its marvelous, fine parquetry 

And myriad-colored marquetry; 

Its multi-figured ornament 

From pedestal to pediment ; 

Its graven writings, signs obscure, 

On dado and entablature, 

On obelisk and wall and shrine; 

Its porphyry-carved reminder there, 

'Mid mortal things, of things divine — 



THE CITY OF IS 

The pallid hajul, august and grand,. 

U}ion yon solitary column, 

Up-pointing in the solemn air; 

Yon pillar there, alone before 

The gloomy, gaping temple-door^ 

Whose shaft the spiral horror binds — 

Down whieli the pitch-blaek serpent winds. 

With dangling head of pearl and gold 

Deep-worn by votaries^ lips nntold ; 

Its marble caryatides; 

Its porches and its balconies ; 

Its pillared aisles and long arcades; 

Its void, foot-polished esplanades; 

Its many a stairflight^ dazzling white, 

Ascending^ to the mistv shade 

In many a stately colonnade; 

Its princely domes of glowing gold, 

'Mid halls, large, clustering, manifold; 

Its great pavilions, gloomy parks. 

Silent founts, memorial marks: — 

O'er all this wild magnificence, 

O'er all this seeming permanence, 

There broods a feeling of suspense. 

As if the silence, though unbroken, 

Contained — were bursting with — a token 



THK CITY OF IS 

Of a cloom-word to be spoken; 
And on the Stranger will obtrude 
The feeling that a multitude 
Is moving restlessly, iinviewed. 

Xear the center of the town 
Is a gradual sloping-down 
To a stone-environed lake. 
Mist-laid, dark, and still as death, 
So still, no inner stir, no ])reath 
Of air, it seems, could ever break 
Upon the raptness of its dreams. 
Its chill oblivion of dreams. 

Let the Stranger linger tliere 
Upon the marble landing-stair; 
Let him look with sense and soul — 
Let him see the incorporate whole. 

Far out within the water-gloom 

There stands what seems a thing of doom 

The symbol of a mighty power — 

A cloud-like, sky-encircled tow^r, 

A place of solemn sovereignty, 

Uplifting like another Baliel 



THE Ci'rV OF IS 

Its gray, incongruous mass, — unstable 
Seeming, — whispering mystery 
And sense of hidden prophecy. 

A strange place is this lonely tower 
Beneath which all else seems to cower, 
Which, seeming eyer falling, falls not; 
This place where silent, felt yoice dwells, 
Which, seeming ever calling, calls not; 
This place witli Heayen or tliousand liells 
Within its deep tranquillity. 

Lo! listen. Stranger, brcatlilessly, — 
What is that lieayenly liarmony — 
Wliat says that heayenly harmony — 
What say tliose tuneful shadowings 
From loye-lutes' liying silver strings — 
What say those potent golden notes. 
Like vocal notes from angels' throats? 

Is! Is! beautiful Is! 

More beautiful seeming 
In tliy deep dreaming 

Or swoon, it man ^^f 
Tliou art eternal. 



8 THE CITY OF IS 

For lie, the Supernal, 

Hath dwelling in tlicel 

Is! Is! beautiful Is! 

Whilst thou art dreaming. 
Thy vitals are teeming 

With living decag : 
Thy breathing is slowing. 
Time's end is close growing. 

Thy heart-beats delay! 

The space-pervading soiukIs expire. 

AYhat mean tlie variant lute and lyre? 
What means this pulsing tremor here, 
Tliis laljoring uneasiness, 
Tliis mute though evident distress? 
Ah, Is, time's end is growing near I . . . 
Time's end is here — is here. . . . 

The mist upon the moveless lake 
Dotli in a wave-like motion wake, — 
It rolls and rises — spreads and swells,- 
It sweeps amain, — it all-includes 
The architectural solitudes; 



THE CITY OF IS 

And now, — ^mid sound of distant bells 
And far-off surges^ — settles down 
A deepening darkness on the town. 

wildered Stranger standing there 
Upon the marble landing-stair. 
In vain thou peerest tlirougli this night, 
In vain, for Is liath vanished quite. 
All-heavenly Is hath vanished quite: 
Steadfast, fearless, hopeful, stand 
And listen to the wliispering surges 
And the bells on far-off verges 
Of the mist-enveloped land; 
Possess thy wondering soul in peace, 
And wait, aud wait; but, pray thee, cease 
To peer into tliis sightless night. 
For Is, for thee, hath vanished quite, 
Celestial Is hath vanislied quite : 
Possess thy wondering soul in peace — 
And wait. 



RICH AS THE FALLING OF NIGHT 

Rich as the falling of night — nay, richlier — 

Were wafted to me from afar 
Glimpses of splendor, of mirth^ of sweet madness, 

xis if through a door ajar. 

NoAV, soft as the coming of dawn — nay, softlier — 

Hither there flows from afar 
A token of love — ah, me ! — and of joy^ 
As if through a lu^art ajar. 



lO 



SALOETHE ii 



Jlcavy-hearteil^ still as death, 

(Just tranced in gloomy, brooding thought; 
In secret, almost overwrought);, 

Xight^ prophetic, stays her breath 

Xow^ anxiously, for to her saith. 
In confirmation, quite unsought, 
A voice from some Familiar caught : 

^'Alas, sad Xight, thou dupe of Death, 

Another sorrow f olloweth !" 
And, too, her now attentive ear 
The phantom of a cry doth hear: 

"Saloeihe! Saloethe! 

Drinlc of Lrthe, sweet-watered Lethe. 
Saloethe! Saloethe! 

Ohlivion — sin — dr'uik of Lethe — Lethe!'' 



Uneasy, slowly fevering, Xight 

Xow casts her mantling gloom profound 
The stately mansion tiirice around: 

Eye-fired space it is, despite 

The casement's tiny taper-light. 



12 SALOETHE 

Which (too slight to ivadi the ground) 
The little litful winds have found; — 
It flickers at its lonely heiglit, — 
Tlie little winds have clipped it quite! 
In rustlings soft, the nnseen trees 
Eelease the sad soul of the breeze: 

''iSalodhel Saloethe! 

SorrotU'haunted Saloethe ! 
Saloethe! Saloethe! 

Art thou coming, Saloethe?'' 



Tlie lieated winds tlie half-oped door 

Have caught and fiercely inward hurled : 
Xight seeks to stay iiEPi^ sorrow-whirled, 
Wlio l)raves the crags on Being's shore, 
Unstartied by the wild storm's roar — 
Jim. desolate and miser} -swirled. 
Who dares tlie might of the deep-stirred world 
And outward presses. (Ah, heart so sore, 
Canst thou this awful blast explore? — 
Doubt undeserved ! daredst thou not sin — 
Insult thyself and God within?) 



SALOETHE I 3 

''Salodhe! Sdotthe! 

Com c — CO m c — Sa JociJi c ! 
Here's no heartache, here by Leihc — 

Come — come — Saloethe f 



Outward under thuiidTous skies 
She passes, and with step so fleet 
A dainion's in her dainty feet ; 
And by the lightning one descries 
A daimon in her hirge. wild eyes; 

The wind-rage wrests with wrathful heat 
Her dark hair from its graceful seat ; 
Cold rain its vain determent tries, 
And hail the gentler rain outvies; — 
Can Night prevent her, if the whole 
Be but the mirror of hev soul? 

''Saloethe! Saloethe! 

SorroiV'Sinking ! siveet is Lethe, 
Saloethe ! Saloethe ! 

Sorro'W'Sunken! come to Lethe/' 

5 
The well-know^n, neighboring region past, 
By garden-walk, familiar road, 



14 SALOKTIIK 

And \viii(lin«i' |)alli l1iroii<i-li slicrr abode 
or sluulowv tliiiios with iMovc'iiiciits vast, 
Ghast, spectral in tlio liglitiiinged l)last. 
Breatldess, lier hastening- step slie slowed 
(Heavily pressed her worn heart's load); 
A glance up toward the sky she cast — 
She smiled — (in splendor unsurpassed 
81y Night had decked herself) — a wan, 
Sad, glimmering smile, scarce come, when 
gone. 

"Salocihc! Salocthc! 

All's deceit hut soothing Lethe; 
Saloethe! Saloethe! 

Sireet ohliuioii's here hi/ Lethe:' 



All. foolish Night! Thy hurst of light 
Could not tlie heart \< dull acliv abate; 
Thou hast the last and unfornd gate 

Disclosed to her bewildered sight — 

Th(^ narrow path beyond — the lii'. ht 
01' stone stairs which doth terniinate 
Tpon a I'ock, where, desolate 

Among the trees, and dark, Night, 



SALOETHK 1 5 

As thou when in deep glooms bedight, 
But by stray drops of rain revealed. 
Beneath, a deep pool lies concealed. 

['SaJoethe! Salodhe! 

I sigh for thcc, sweet Saloeilie! 
I cry for tltee, Sal oe the! 

Come! Come! Come down to Letlie/' 



The gate^ — the path — tlie short descent — 
Shadow-like upon the rock: — 
Will she her secret heart unlock ? 

A nettle stung her as she went. 

And wild-rose thorns tlie wounds augment; 
But powerless were earthquake sliock 
To wake the dornumt feeling. (Knock 

I^pon lu^r lieart. (iod ! prevent 

Tliis deed; — or has slu' Thy consent?) 
A moonl)eaiu lier lithe foi'iu caresses — 
Slu' moves — thi-ows hack lier taiuiied tresses. 

'"SaloetJi e ! Saloethe ! 

My sad soul's cnj'uuj SaloetJte! 
Saloeihe! Saloethe! 

Aye softly siyliiny, here hy Lellic," 



1 6 SAI.OETHE 

8 

^^My heart's hearty here I am — poor I ! 

He asks my love — I cannot feign; 

You cold in death — could I remain? 
Woe, woe! my guilty heart doth cry! 
Where, God, wast Thou? Why wast not nigli 

In my dire need — when so in vain 

I strove against this joy, this pain? 
I thank Thee, none on me rely 
For aught. For you, dear heart, — -I die.'' 

A plunge!, .an owl hoots — here — then there; 

And ?^ight her tears can not forbear. 

/, the ^yind, say: Saloethe, 

Is there sighing, by sweet Lethe — 

7^ there crying, Saloethe? 

Wlicrc's ohUvion? ^Vhere is Lethe f 



To AGE^'^ 17 

All honor to thee, cahn-eyed Age^ aseat 
Upon the throne-like summit of a life, 
With folded hands^ and thoughtful temples 

touched 
With presage of a more than earthly glor\^, 
Lost in simple wonder, leaning forward, 
Listening. 

Chaste Initiate, unto thee, 
Baptized by life-fire in the raging cycle 
Of the senses — unto thee, before 
The portal of a grander tabernacle — 
Earth holds out her jealous arms at last 
For thy ennobled tenement, which, though 
Translucent to an alien light out from 
The world's deep heart, she claims as that dull, 

formless 
Stuff she gave; and thou, thy self uncinct, 
Thy wondrous sympathies all unconstrained, 
Dost think deep thoughts of immortality 
And hold thyself in passive readiness, 
Xay, dost — with a smile — await the term 
When thou shalt yield thy leasehold up and take 
Thy personal effects unto that statelier 
^Lansion which is thine in fee and from 
Whose crystal windows thou mayst far survey 
The glory and the grandeur of God^s Xature. 

* Published in Overland Monthly, Jan., 1000. 



1 8 THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE 



Wo walked alone, 
AtkI tlie Workrs heart throbl)ed with fever-heat: 
And fever-speeters rose on tlieir feet 
And trou])led tlie niglit witli their groan^: and 

sighs; 
And the weirdest winds tliat ever were known 
Sat in tlie trees and witli sob and moan 
Grieved with tlie weeping, delirions skies 
For the passing of that whieli they idolize — 
The peace and tlie beauty they idolize; 
But what to nie were sigh and groan? 
AMiat to me were sob and moan. 
And what were the tears of the mandlin skies? 
For the whole of mij world was a garden em- 
pearled — 
A Paradise pnrpled and pearled 
P)y the light of Tola's bright eyes — 
The glory of light in her eyes. 

2 

We walked alone. 
And calmer the ])idse of the World had grown; 
But a waning moon through a nebulous rift 
Looked down with an envious frown 



I 



THK TRIUMPH ()F J.OVH 19 

And tlie cowering rock^^ began to uplift 
Tlieir dull, pallid faces and sullenly stare^ 
On seeing the night-like, clustering hair, 
The classic head and delicate air 

Of my Love and the splendor that stole 
So easily forth from her soul — 
The illumined rich thrpnc-room, her 
soul ; 
Aud lola^s soft heart grew sorrowful then. 
But (repressing my ow^n growing feelings of 

gloom) 
I told her how common it is among men 
To envy and hate e'en the peerlessly great, 

Yet proclaim him a god — in the tomb. 
And prayed her be hopeful and find in the deed 
Or the clearness ot coiiscience the genuine meed; 
She silently wept, but after a while 
Looked up and around with a smile — 
A lovely, mysterious snrile — 
And my feelings of gloom in a moment gave place 
To an inflowing favor of grace — 
An ecstatic sweet fullness of grace. 

3 
We walked alone. 

And quite calm the pulse of the World had grown; 



20 THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE 

Thougli a prevalent malice did poison and blight 
The valley a-cokl with the moon's cold light : 
Though the ogling rocks — emboldened l)y spite — 
Endeavored to ])ar our way through the night; 
Though the sap-sucking ivy long creepers down- 
threw 
And tangled us tight in the damps where it grew; 
Though flittering things did others pursue^ 
And fell shapes wander or lie perdu; 
Though henbanes there did tlie harebells woo, 
And violets shrink from the taint of the rue; 
Though the ])itterest l)reezes tliat ever blew 
Descended and shivered tlirough and through 
The delicate, line-tem})ered, exquisite few. — 

Tluit entrancing sweet fullness of grace 

That flowed from lola's dear face 
Soon mystically — musically — 

Thrilled tli rough the soul of the valley, 
Soon musically — ecstat ically — 

Throbbed in the heart of the valley. 
Then dim liglits sauntered aloft toward tlie skies, 
And, soft like the rays from lola's soft eyes, 
Glimmered with presage of glory like tlieirs — 

01' transfiguring glory like theirs, — 
Glimmered, — but now in gray mantles bedight, 



THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE 2 1 

And filled with swift power and creative delight. 
Gorgeously frescoed the dark dome of night; 
And gentle and tremulous warm little airs 

Arose unawares 
And siIvctIv sweetly laughed through the valley 
Whisperingly low — liarmonically 

With the joy in the heart of the valley; 
And throuaii us lauohed the fancies of love that's 

requited, 
In us adowcd the feelinu-s of lovers united, 
And there seemed to fall o'er us and flow on he- 
fore us 
A perfume whose richness grew ever intenscr — 
The largess of many a heavenly censer — 
The love-gift of many a spirit there 
Afloat in the radiant air — 
Of many a spirit there 
Afloat in the hallow(^d air. 



22 AMERICA 

LAXj) or Tin: nj:w acu:. 

O Ijind of the palmetto and the pine, 

Land of tlie yucca, cactus, brake and sa^ize. 

Of fiax and cotton, wlieat, corn, gold and wine, 
Thine, thine the burden of tlv oncoming age — 

On thee the Spirit of the World hath set His sign ! 

Land of the mighty reaches, mingling races, 
Foster-Jiiother of the ]iation sM)rood. 

liare, ])atient mistress of the civic graces, 
Thine, thine the snre uplifting of the rude, 

The raising of the lowly pure to lofty places. 

Land of heroic men,~and women fair, 
Of female virtue and male enterprise. 

Of hearts athirst for draughts the gods prepare, 
Thine, thine the promise of the larger skies 

And all the high activities that center there. 

Land of the national spirit like the sea, 
As boundless, free, assimilative, vast, 

A new age, new race, take their rise in thee; 
Thine, thine the fruitage of the ages past. 

The blending into one of all humanity. 

hiiul on which great (lod hath set His sign, 
O mighty creature of the higher law. 

The generation of the Eight is thine, 
Eternal Justice without fleck or flaw — 

A life responsive to the thrill of Life Divine! 



THROUGH THE VALLEY OF NIL 

I 
Life smiled on tlie lovely Child 

And led him Avith delicate liiiger-tips 

Into the Valley of Xil ; 
And kissing his voluted linger-lips^ 
Quickened his inchoate will. 

2 

He shrank from the peopling l)lank — 

Turned l)ack toward the glittering s|)augles 

Of love-living light on the Hill 
Just out of the tortuous tangles 
Of the solaric Valley of Xil. 

3 
But the gradient^ paved with irradiant. 

Vacuous violet light, 

Had shrunk to a slender rill 
Of fluctuant spirit, to the sight 

Of the Child in the VaUey of Xil. 

4 

He tremhled, hut sweet Life (lisseml)led. 

Assumed in soft outlines a seeming 
Of splendor like that of the HilK 

And lulled tlu^ dear Child into dreaming 
Of it, ill ihe Vallev of Xil. 



24 THROUGH THK VAIXKY OF Nil, 

5 

He awoke, and his wild eyes l)espoke 

That liis spirit was drunken with wonder 

With the shadows that flitted at will 
He allied him^ and nothing shonld sunder 
Him now from the Valley of Xil. 
6 

He wandered, and ceaselessly pondered 
The alien thoughts and new feelings 

He ever encountered, until 
The swiftly evolving revealings 

Apotheosized the Valley of Xil. 

7 
Then a stream like a fever-dream 

With the demiurgic efflux commingled : 

Oh, alas, if its turhidness fill 
(Alas for this Being outsingled). 
If it fill all the Valley of Xil ! 
8 
But he saw in vague limning a law 
Of spiritual chemistry waiting 

To cleanse the mad stream of its ill : 
It seized on the ill, alienating 
It, there in the Vallev of Xil. 



THROUGH THE VAI^tHV OF NIL 25 

9 

Separated and so alienated, 
Tlie ill was a mist, organized, 

Tliat did a blind madness distill 
Intermittently down, undisguised. 
On this Soul in the Valley of Nil. 
10 
And he grew now to think that the elue 
To this tortuous, wildering maze, 

Tlie mavavic Yallev of ^il, 
Was to scatter the thickening haze 
Of the ill Avith a tempest of will. 
II 
Ye! distilled the dark mist, as it willed, 
A virulence greater than ever : — 

Though visions arose of the Hill, 
Alas, could it be they could never 

Ke-transfioure the Yallev of Nil? 

~ %j' 

12 
Overcast and despairing, he passed 
(Led by a Kational Doubt) 

To denial of aught of the Hill; 
Then looked, with calm glances, throughout 
The vast, gamutic Yallev of Nil. 



26 THROUGH TMli VAtLKY Ot^ Kit 

His ^i'laiK'iiig set gravitv dancing 
And fixed nos8 furiously spiuuiug: 

An interi)retiug, spiritual thrill 
Pei-\ad(ul all tliiugs, i'roui beginning 

To eiul or the ^^alley of .\il. 

And U'aning tlien toward the nu^aning 
or ill and its ultimate trend 

(Catalytie, equivoeal ill), 
Jn half-glinij)ses he saw. in the ejid, 

The Hill, from the \'alley of Nil. 

15 

The heightening insight Avas hi'ightening 
To light, when Life — letting sink her lips 

Soft on his forehead still — 
Led him with delicate fi]iger-ti[)s 
Out of the A^allev of N^il. 



CIVIL ANGUISH^ 27 

I 

With solemn intonation, tliron<>li tlie land 
Kever])erates the saddening' note of some 
Sublime despair: from fretful nuirmurino's 
Of ill impersonal, it rose to tliis. 
The deep heart-out])reak of pent-up, waitina" an- 
guish, 

When hope is o'er, when hope *s no more. 

The very fountainheads of forlorn life 
Usurped — the seantv vitalizing rills 
Shrunk up ])y harpy-natured arrogance 
O4; doled out, garl)led, poisoned at their source. 
By sleek and specious opulence, till weakening: 
^lembers weaken more the weakened will; 
Till humanhood, disorganized, forgets 
It e'er was man and sinks below the brute; 
Till simple life, o'erburdened, sorrow-whirled. 
Kind death blots out the world; — 
The very fountainheads of forlorn life 
Usurped and this deep anguish in the land. 
How shall the overborne spirit ever shift 

♦Written in 1895, and being a characterization of, and sotne 
reflections upon, affairs in the United States in that terrible year 
of panic and ruin, poverty and distress, when employers were most 
selfish and employed most needy. 



28 CIVIL ANGUISH 

The wearv load of can^ assiiiiu^ \i^ true 

Supreniacv, llii'ill with vivifying 

Hope tlie apathetie nerves and urge 

Tlie faint, parched life up to its lavish sources 

Engrossed thus and corrupted? 

Go first to the homes of the yeonianrv, the sinews 

And sense of tlie State, the source of the civil 
health. 

The union of hand and hrain, the primal impinge- 
ment 

Of mind on the matter-worhl : the sturdy sons 

Of God who glean. In their own right, rich, teem- 
ing 

Xature's free, rife hounties; — go thither: — hag- 
aard 

Poverty leans *neath the lintel, trying to think; 

And corpulent Mortgage, in passing, complacently 
nods 

And rubs his fat hands. 

Go now to the homes of those who, thews of an 
alien 

Brain, fashion for others the unwrought gleanings 

From Nature, and tangle their heart-fibers fast in 
their work; — 



CIVIIv ANGUISH 29 

Go tbither : — list to the wastins^ \Yi(lowV sob 

For him who^ at the hands of fellow-era Ftsiiien 

Infuriated to a fatal madness 

^Xeath the grinding heel of advaneing greed. 

Perished at the post he could not leave 

And live; 

Peer now through the chilly gloom at her wan, 

still face 
And staring eves^ as she looks on her feel)le babes 
And finds their pinched cheeks filled with the 

ichor 
And curved wdth the beauty-lines of life — 
Their dull eyes bright with the fire of noble pur- 
pose — 
Their slowly-moving, shrunken limbs alive 
With the ecstatic fury which shall touch 
And vitalize the old, cold world ; — 

]Y]iile the fever burns her life away, • 

And her silent babes gaze atvestruclv 
Into her tearless eyes. 

The boy — the girl: too young, too tender-plastic. 

For the harried mother's holy care 

To have shaped in them, in fixed and lasting lines, 



30 CIVIL ANGUISH 

The lineaments of love — t^hall he ^irrow wild^ 
A noxious weed, as some malign padrone's 
Child ? — sliall slic hy soft, persuasive lure 
Lapse all unconsciously in unsuspecting 
Maidenliood to woe unutterable. 
Or, spirit-stricken, drop doggedly from hideouj 
Penury to the soul-corrosive horror 
Of dark harlotry? 

2 

At this despondent time, oh could the State 

A cherishing mother stand, the source of liope 

And self-dependent happiness! 

Ah, half-divine analogon of that 
Dim God who, having made the world, remaiui 
Aloof in stern, restrictive might alone, 
To judge, condemn and punish what his cold 
Xeglect creates, take to thyself thy real 
Domain, the well-spring of thy life; permit 
Xo private seal upon those sanctuaries 
Where natural potencies await the mastering 
Spirit; conserve from personal caprice 
And private greed the alterable or 
Destructible factors in common, all-embracing 
Benefits; provide the necessary 



CIVIL ANGUISH 3 1 

^[eans for geiieral needs and trust tlie l)est 

Accomplishment to virile individuals 

Instinctively obeying natural laws: 

Be true to thyself and thine: and thou — now a 

Benign and active organism — wih find 

The wisest eager in thy service and 

\\]\t foster as thy most elect aud eaiviiest 

Tlie high, creative self-activities^ 

Wliich, closely federated, will inakc of tliee 

A true ]iepul)lic of Free Spirits, likening 

Thee to what this iiuite mind l)elieves 

(lod really is — loving, immanent 

And supereminent. 

IT/V/ thou, in the face of this, thy deep. 
Dynamical ideal, fall from each 
Exalting tendency — forget the living- 
Elements whose true well-l)eino's thinc^ — 
Impassively abandon to ambitious 
Knaves that batten on the needincss 
Of ]u)uest worth the springs of life and soul- 
Sustaining hope-.-and direr still, irlH 
Thou, Titan of the many million minds. 
Yet blindly tolerate that deeper^ dread, 
Evasive and persistent ill — the sad 



CIVIL ANOtflSH 

triicoiiscioiis shaping, by insinuative, 
Subtle eilliieiiccs from tlie dazzling 
Spectacle of regnant Selfishness^, 
Of those in whom the future lies embosomed 
And involved? 



32 







THE MYSTIC. 

Deep in the lonesome watches of the night, 

When to the worlcVs far margins down is drawn 

AYith loving care its canopy of light, 
Within my soul oft witness I the dawn 

Of such a day no eye could bear the golden sight. 

And, too, when ravining tempests come, rend wide 

The starry canopy, rush howling in 
And roar and rage aloft from side to side, 

Xot e'en the deal of this unholy din 
Doth with my blissful, radiant day its claims di- 
vide. 

would that when false pleasures softly lure 
With cunning semblance of my high delight, 

Or when black malice into forms impure 

Provokes my peace with its corroding blight — 

would my molten golden day might still endure ! 

Soft, silly creatures of blind circumstance. 
Did we but will it with a constant mind 

All things should work for our deliverance. 
The Light within no obscuration find, — 

Ourselves as gods work freely in the World-ex- 
panse ! 

33 



li^TEKPKEtATIO^, 

OK A STKOLL IN A GAKDEN. 
SHE. 

{Moving liglitly and happily along the path), 
I love the earnest flowers, 

They breathe their souls out to me 
And from their artless beaut}^ 
A gentle thrill runs through me. 

HE. 

Dear like its like aye liketh well. (Sighing) 
All, Beauty is the master-spell ! 

SHE. 

In this bloomy, perfumed bower, 

This natural grouping of leaf and flower, 

I hear soft lily-voices, violet-sighs, 

And I read a wealth of meaning 

In this passion-flower's wild eyes. 

HE. 

Sw^eet Interpreter, thy dark, deep eyes are cunning 

ears. 
(To himself:) Can it be tV exalted sense my in- 



most feeling hears? 



34 



INTERPRKTATION 35 



SHE. 



What faith hath yonder struggling smilax, 
Clinging to those dying lilacs ! 
How doth a steadfast faith upbear 
Yon ivy on the stone wall there ! 

HE. 

(Almost involuntarUy, as he leans vpon a garden 

urn. ) 

I crave a most full^ heart-whole faith : 
It were as if I quaffed the world-w4ne 
And made the spirit of the w^orld mine, 
And so inspirited;, did look about me 
And recosfnize the world within without me! 

SHE. 

This morning-glory's opening cup 
Doth say: "The light of love is up^ 
When thou dost feel thv heart enlaro;e 
And warmer life its depths surcharge V^ 

HE. 

Some deep source feeds this frail, symbolic cup. 
(Tlalf-audibhj:) Ah me! the light of love hath 
long been up. 



36 INTKRPRKTATION 

SHE. 

(As they approach a dried-up fountain overgroion 

with vines) 
That delicate vine — the simple-sweet — 
Which^ from her pretty, unlaved feet, 
Doth there entwine, with perfume laden, 
The form of the marble fountain-maiden, 
Doth softly say : "ily love will shield thee 
Prom all the blows that the years can yield thee/^ 

HE. 

Intangible love has the power of a soul, 
And tempers soul to a spirit-whole 
In which the most caustic vicissitudes pass 
As inert as fire in a mirror-glass. 
(Only just audibly and confusedly:) 

But the tempering, dear, can I — ah, can one en- 
dure it? 

Though reason reveals it, I, dearest, renounce and 
abjure it — 

I know^ but a sweet fascination, a vacant despair — 

SHE. 

(Archly) 
Yon tiger-lilies' splendor there, 
Those dahlias' self-s\ifficient air. 



INTERPRETATION 37 

Bemock the genuine beauty of yon rose 

And clieat the credulous air with surface-shows. 

HE. 

(Seriously) 
What ^s of the surface integrally 
Is of the center mystically : 
The spoken word is spirit. 

SHE. 

(On their entering the conservatory) 
And here^ too frail for the sun^s bare sight, 
The Holy Ghost Flower, fainting quite 
In the radiant flood of her own rare light, 
Doth say, underbreath, to the dove in her heart : 
"^Who is so true, love, and pure as thou art ? 
Though I swoon in the excess of love, I will hold 

thee 
Forever here in my heart. 
Forever in ecstasy here will enfold thee !'^ 

HE. 

Sweet Psychologist, from flower-soul. 
Oh, turn, — interpret my sad human heart : 
It is a scroll 

•Which none but thee can read — thou, dearest, art 
Therefore its most meet guardian; — it is thine — 
Translate thy own to me, and make it mine! 



38 MAN'S rEOPEE ELEMENT. 

Man's proper element is men awake^ 

Alive and giving life to thoughts and things^ 

Enthusiastic^ throwing — for the sake 

Of shaping true their deep imaginings — 

Their very souls into the tasks they uudertake. 

Life's uot the playtime of a tlioughtless child: 
Its worth is measured hy the iusiglds gained; 

The wisdom of tlie larger grasp; the uiild^ 
Free power from some worthy end-attained; 

Tlie inner wealtli from minutes full and well be- 
guiled. 

And, truly, he with vain^ conceited pride 
And he who shuns Avith scorn the vital ways 

Are fellow-travelers without a guide 
Upon a plain whose barren face l)etrays 

A lack no knowing eye could view unterrified. 

Till Ave can stand the Light — and not till then — 
The Light that sets us from our self-love free, 

Wq see but shadoAvs as in Plato's den : 

A man's most perfect function is to be ^ 

A source of inspiration to his fcUoAvmen, 



THE DEMOii. 3g 

1. 

One night (the night 

Most deliriously bright^ 

The gnomon that measures 

The limit of pleasures). 

Again by the lake 

Where our spirits first spake, 

But a few hours before. 

Of the love that they bore, 

I walked as one seems 

To walk in his dreams, 

Palpably nought 

But the potence of thought, 

Though alive to the slightest 

Detail and the lightest 

Sense-thrill of mild power 

Of that memorable hour. 

2. 
Still was the night. 
Yet breathless quite 
From the spell she liad cast 
Over all, as Ave passed 
In the dreamy eve-light. 



40 I'HK DKMON 



In a flutteriDg flight 
Of mute love, from the manse, 
Throngli the gloomy expanse 
Of the park, to the edge 
Of the lake, to the path 
Tlirongh tlie grasses and sedge 
On the edge of the lake, 
And uttered I know not 
AVhat mutual lavisliment 
(In words that will flow not 
Agaiu) of dear love — 
In a heavenly tranee — 
Of dear love like the love 
That eomes down from al)ove ; 
And tlien in t^weet ravishment 
Back to the manse. 

3. 
Quiet the lake 
Lay (lier little lake), 
Silent for sake 
Of the love it eould tell not. 
For sake of the love 
It eould tell not, eould tell not, 
In fatefully facile 
Soft words, as were mine; 



THE DEMON 4I 

But its surface was lit 
AVith a certain soft glow 
Transfiguring it — 
And thus did it show 
What it never could tell 
In words that should well 
Out so freely as mine^ 
In words that should flow 
Forth so smoothly as mine. 

4. 
Each l)owery cove 
And each headland's dark grove 
Had least of the light 
Of that radiant night, 
Yet here I could note, 
By the shadowy shore, 
Some lilies afloat, 
And some tree-tops there 
Dissolving in air 
Or sprinkled white 
With a liquor of light; 
And so limpid and rare, 
So pellucid, tlie air. 
The stars in their darklino: 
Purlieus were so sparkling 



42 THE DEMON 



They appeared all liquescent^ 

Madh' liquescent^ 

And the silver moon-crescent 

(Though ecstatic refulgence^ 

As if from indulgence 

In raptures divine 

And all-holy like mine^ 

So intensely ensouled her 

The sky could scarce hold her)^ 

The melting moon-crescent^ 

I saw was pursued 

By a DEMOX endued 

With desire but to quench lier 

Soul-fire and to wrench her 

Perforce from the sky^ 

Down out of the sky, — 

A shadowy demon 

Bane to the eye 

Of the credulous seaman. 

5. 
Oh, why, wdiy that shrinking, 
Instinctive deep shrinking 
Of spirit, on thinking 
Of fancy like that. 
Of trifle like that 



THE DEMON 43 

Of that moon and the demon 
Feared by the seaman ? 

6. 
Ah^ well^ too well;, 
Did my memory tell ! 
Ah^ well, too well^ 
Does my memory tell ! 
I, indeed^ might haye known^, 
Before seeking her loye^, 
That neyer alone 
Was to come from aboye, 
To me, from aboye, 
The Spirit of Beautj% 
The Spirit of Loye, 
The Spirit of Beauty 
And heayenly Loye. 

7. 
In early youth 
That, alas, was youth 
But in name, and, in truth, 
Was a maelstrom of thought, 
One day, oyerwrought 
By long and deep pondering, 
Listlessly wandering, 
Thoughtless and wear}^, 



44 ^I'Hl^ Dl^MON 

Out in the hills^ 

I entered tlie dreary 

Thick woods where the rills 

Slidder down 

In a series of shocks 

Musical shocks^ 

Through dark recesses 

In the mother-rocks^ 

And slip through the cresses^ 

Which curtsy and quiver, 

Perhaps to the river 

Down hy the town. 

In the gloom of that place 

And its dark counterpart. 

The gloom of my heart, 

There arose — ah, her grace. 

Her glory of face 

And the poise of her form ! 

How lovingly warm. 

How subtly alluring. 

Intense and enduring! 

^^0 Spirit,^^ I cried, 

^^Be my bride, be my bride ! 

And the sad realms of thought 

I will leave to be sought 



\ 



THE DEMON 45 

But by those that can find 
All beauty in mind/' 

8. 
Her sweet interference 
There in my gloom^ 
Her very appearance, 
In roseate bloom, 
In my hermetic gloom, 
AVas warrant that she — 
Ah, was only for me ! 

9. 
But, melancholy 
Me ! Folly, 
Folly, why, 
Why mortify 
Me thus — entreating 
And sadly repeating 
^^0 Spirit of Woe ! 
Tell me not so, 
That thou art the maiden 
With love overladen, 
Endowed with a beauty 
It were paramount duty 
To aspire to — adore — 
And peril all for I'^ 



1 

i 



46 THE DEMON 

10. 

But, too triie^ too true ! 
A Circean spell 
In possession dotli dwell : — 
This spirit perdue 
Had lain — this shade 
Of satiety made — 
This inadequate creature 
Of imperfect feature — 
Beneath the rare 
And faultlessly fair 
First ravishing sight 
Of that creature of light. 
11. 

Then should / not have kuown 

That never alone 

Came to me from above^ 

Tlie Spirit of Beauty^ 

The Spirit of Love^ 

The Spirit of Beauty 

And heavenly Love? 

12. 

In a subsequent year^ 
When greater my sphere^ 



THE DEMON 47 

Less passion-whirled 

And more of the world^ 

A seraphic soul^ 

Xigh merged in the Whole, 

Came to incline 

Chastely to mine. 

I saw in her eyes 

The rational skies ; 

And her every word 

My spirit stirred 

To depths unknown 

When I groped alone: 

I felt all the glory 

And grandenr of story; 

The great world was greater; 

And He, the Creator^ 

I well knew to be 

Ever-present in me — 

I w^as my maker 

And kindred partaker 

In Him who created me 

Maker, instated me 

Monarch of self, 

Disposer of self, 

In Him, the container. 



48 THE DEMON 

Sustainer, restrainer, 
The corrector, perfector. 
^^0 beloved/' I cried, 
^^Be my bride, be my bride! 
I see now the meaning 
Of life — 'tis the gleaning 
Of culture (the essence 
And true coalescence 
Of feeling and thouglit) — 
The gleaning of culture — 
The soul being brought 
From toucli with the sod 
To communion wit' God. 

beloved — my bride — 
With thee by my side 
To interpret, control 

My conscience, my soul . . . . 

1 cannot speak 

The feelings that come! 
But why should I seek 
To 1)0 other than dumb 
When I certainly know 
That my meaning will flow 
To completion, in thee? 
Oh, there's nothino- for me. 



THE DEMON 49 

Revered one, I find, 
But beauty of mind!'^ 

13. 
But, melancholy 
Me I FoUv, 
Folly, why, 
Wliy mortify 
Me thus — entreating 
And sadly repeating, 
^^0 Spirit of Woe ! 
Tell me not so, 
That thou art the maiden 
With love chastely laden, 
Endowed with a beauty, 
Intellectual beauty. 
It were paramount duty 
To aspire to — adore — 
And peril all for !'' 

1-1. 
But, a Circean spell 
In possession doth dwell; 
x\nd, alas, in despite 
Of the draught I had quaffed 
From tlie Fountain of Light, 
Sun-blind orew mv si^ht. 



50 THE DKMON 



For I searched her blue eyes, 

And, all, where were their skies, 

Their rational skies? — 

Her lack-lnstre eyes. 

Homogeneous thought 

Left nought to be sought, 

And m}^ soul never stirred 

As before, at a word ; 

So, palled, and bereft 

Of my love, what was left? 

15. 
Then should I not have known 
That never alone 
Came to me from above, 
The Spirit of Beauty, 
The Spirit of Love, 
The Spirit of Beauty 
And heavenly Love? 

16. 
But the shrink] no- on thinkino^ 
Of fancy like that, 
Of trifle like that. 
Of the moon and the demon, 
The dear moon and tlie demon 
Tlint night by tlie lake 



THE dp:mon 51 

Where our spirits first spake 
Of their love — ay, love? 
A dark premonition 
Was, sans my volition, 
Sans even my thinking, 
Inclissoluhly ! inking 
My soul to the soul. 
The virulent soul. 
Of the demon. 
The pitiless demon ! 

17. 
I hardly am equal 
To telling the sequel — 
I droop neath the weight 
Of my fate, of hek fate : 
For the demon. . . .the demon. . , . 

Was / was the demon .... 

It was I who pursued .... 
7, the demon endued 
With desire to quench her 
Soul-fire and wrench her, 
My Love, from her sky, 
Down out of her sky 
Of perfection, — 'twas I, 
Yes, I, unwilling 



52 THK DKMON 

Yet forced to, fulfilling 
A law of my nature, — 
AVhat certainly seemed — 
What I sadly misdeemed — • 
A law of my nature, 
That the high legislature 
Of love could annul not, 
And God even cull not 
Clean from the code 
And not wholly confound 
And raze to the ground 
The rute He bestowed. 

18. 
melancholy 
Me! Folly, 
Folly, why, 
Why mortify 
Me so — entreating. 
Sadly entreating : 
^^0 Spirit of AYoe ! 
Say where is the maiden 
AYith celestial love laden 
(With pain orcrladen). 
Endowed with a beauty, 
Inexpressible beauty, 



THK DKMON 53 

It were paramount duty 
To aspire to — adore — 
And peril all for V 

19. 
Dark Spirit of Woe, 
Wilt tliou never forego 
Thy false disillusioning, 
Mortal confusioning, 
Xever eease to pursue me, 
Thwart and undo me? 

20. 
But why do I ask, 
So needlessly ask? 
I who have passed 
By degrees to the last 
(The uttermost) station, 
Tlie full consummation. 
Of pain — the pain 
Of a heart that hath lain 
On the bosom of love, 
Sweet, innocent love, 
i\.nd yet (through a flaw 
In the intimate law 
Of its nature), self-cursed. 
But overcome and coerced. 



54 'J'HK DEMON 

Hath cruelly stricken 
And blighted the tender^ 
Dear soul it would render 
Up Heaven^ to quicken ! 

21. 
My life is a cloud 
And this body a shroud^ 
Though I still feel the lurking, 
Loth hearths labored working, 
As the slow blood would fain 
Relieve the poor brain 
And stay the creation, 
Painful, unsought, 
The sad fabrication 
Of feeling and thought, 
That I might lie down. 
Quietly down. 
On the shore of the lake 
Where our spirits first spake 
Of their love — lie down. 
Lie down in the gloom. 
Alone in the gloom 
Of the tomb — 
Away from the laugh. 
The chatter and laugh a 



THK DEMON 55 

Of the bigots who doubt 
Absolution from stain 
By baptism of pain — 
Lie at rest in the gioom^ 
The remedial gloom 
Of the peacefullest tomb. 
The tomb without 
An epitaph. 



OH, THE FEEE ATE\S THE MAXSIOX TO 
LITE IX! 



1. 



The glint of the southerly sun on the ])lades 
Of the rank, fresh grass of the years new life; 
The lines^ through these leafless trees^ of light 
On tlie limhs^ with a setting of shadow-jet, 
And the myriad splashes of moUient flame 
Through thai smooth-faced perennial foliage; 
The dreamy l)lue of the sky through the lacy 
And complicate canopied frowze of tliis tree. 
And the jagged and involute i)lat on the blue, 
Of the cameo-clear and intricate outline 
Of that tree; the dark-green and light-green and 

earth-brown 
And shadow below — with a mottling of red-brown 
And umber and silver and gray and a hint 
Of dark pur2:)le — and the hue of the sky-dome 

above ; 
The sight of the various leaf-shapes and ])lant- 

shapes 
That spring from a common soil ; 
The flight of the small birds and ))utterflies; 
The masterful poise of the hawk in the zenith; 

5^ 



OH, THE FRKE AIR^S THE MANSION TO UVK IN 

The beauty-liiKS of the crests of tlie liills — 
The nielodions flowing of curve upon curve 
Along and adown and across, witli the mild 
Sensation and pique, for tlie nonce, at the sharp 
Interruption of fire-cracked or stratified rocks, 
Which a further and deeper reflection interprets 
And feels as the cliecks that make melody harmony, 
As the discord tliat heightens sweet sameness out 

there 
To arouse and partake of the spirit's activity 
Here, for harmony holds from the spirit; 
The suggestion of God in the far-sweeping dis- 
tances ; 
The finding of freedom within and the fixing 
Of faitli in the infinite reaches of spirit : — 

Here's no stifling constraint of the feelings, 

Xo leveling down to alikeness. 

Oh, the free airs the mansion to live in! 

2. 
The sound of the hastening rill down there 
In the httle ravine; 
The hum of the insect ; 
The song of the bird ; 
Tlu} l)ark of the squirrel; 

57 



ott, THE ^RUn Air's the mansion To uvk in 

The iiiaiiy uncertain^ iiiyslerioiis sifflings 

Of soiiiul from the depth of the tree, the eleft 

Of the rock and the midst of the weed-clump : — 

They tell not of weariness, heartache or woe; 

Their burden's not malice nor spite nor con- 
ceit. 

Oh, the free a'l/s ilie mansion to live in! 
3. 
The tingling, magnetic, cool feel of the earth 
And the sprinkling of sap-dew lingering still 
On the veins of the iinshaken leaflets : — 

Here^s no clammy, dead hand of deceit, 

No feverish gripe of a fiend. 

Oil, the free airs the mansion to live in! 
4. 
The taste, as if every skin-pore had a tongue, 
And the smell, as if function were ended in smell- 
ing, 
Of a vaporized liquor of life — 
Of a sweet and ethereal essence of life — 
Till the vitalized being dilates to the point 
Where ecstasy turns into tears — 
Where the rich, iridescent film-figures of fancy 
Flash into tears : — 

58 



OH, THK FREE AIR'S THE MANSION TO LIVE IN 



Here^s no tang of a sympathy^ hollow^ lialf- 

hearted ; 
Xo memorial sad odor of roses, no token 
Of roses now faded, no token of vows 
That arc broken, of love that's departed. 
Oli, the free airs the mansion to live in! 



59 



THE WATCHEK. 

ArliiK. arise! arise! 
Tlie air with an attar-like odor is teeming, 

^[ild night-light comes down from the skies, 
Soft love-light that vies with the light of thy eyes, 

Tlie light of love in thy eyes: 

Pale starlight comes down, scarce seeming 

To fall, ere it faints, ere it dies, 
In the opal in :^ moonlight silvering, creaming, 
The garden and inar1)le fount, where it lies. 

Arline, arise I I implore. 
The Planet of Love 's in the arms of the ^loon 

(^Tis the night of all nights in the year — 

'Tis the palmary night of the year), 
The sweet garden flowers are lolling aswoon 
And the Avarm airs are kissing the ones they 

adore ; — 
Oh, drive away Sleep from each frail, silken lid. 
Pitiless Sleep, from each tyrannized lid 

(From my thirsting, sad soul I implore!) 
And full to these tantalized purlieus restore 
AVith thy presence, Euterpe, the melody hid 

r the hearts of the trees and the flowers; 

6q 



THE WATCHER 6 1 

With the charm of thy presence bring potence once 

inore 
To the pain-lulling, lyrical, lovely Xight-Hours! 

Sweet, here where the radiant wealth of the night 
Illumines as if with an inward light 
The .form of the marble fountain-maiden, 
And the wealth of the garden, perfume-laden, 

Responds to the fountain's sonody, 

Xods to the murmuring monod}-. 

Till all is in sympathy quite 
(For the maiden mourns. I know, for her lover, 
And over my heart soft, sweetly-sad unisons 
hover) ; 

Here, where the elfm shadows crouch 
And hide in the grass or sit on the leaves 
Or, softer than any wind that blows. 
Kiss the rich cheek of a regal rose, 
I'll make thee a couch — the daintiest couch ; 

Here, where the delicate vine interweaves 
In her arms the loveliest lily-bell 
That ever hath listened to all the woes 
That a d(»licate vino can tell. 



62 THE WATCHER 

I'll make thee a couch — ah, the queenliest couch, — 
Out of flowers each breathing her soul out for thee, 
Out of violets sighing and dying for thee; 

And here tliou wilt stay till the love-star goes; 

And the liglit on tliy clustering hair. 

The light on thy forehead fair, 
The smile on tliy lips, the liglit in thy eyes, 
The joy in my heart, shall declare that he lies 

Who mitli ill at a slow hell tolls 

And 0)1 lire nlgld a I'nell rolls. 

Sweet, here where the Spirit of Love 

Hath woven the world in a spell. 
Hath brought down ethereal threads fi'om above 

And woven the world in a spell, 
Here will the heavenly visions of night 

Arise from the soul, Avhere they dwell. 
And, leading us on from delight to delight, 
Make us one — ay, one ! — by a marvelous spell , 

Far out of the confines of night. 
Far out of this very inadequate world. 

Far out of this maladjust world — 

Where no hell tolls ' 

And on my heart its I'nell rolls. 



THE ViTATClt^ft 63 

Ah^ cloud o'er the moon ! 
So sooii^ t?o soon, 
Dost thou wake nie 
To worldliness, make me 
Alive to my bitterest woe? 

All, cloud o'er the moon ! 
Too soon, too soon, 
Uost thou wake me 
And make me 

Alive to unutterable woe. 

But how could I sleep 

And leave tliem to keep 

Watch o^er my dead — 

Them only, who kept her — 
Who from damnable pride — 
Kept her from me, till she died ! 

Lo, the purple pane ! 

The lamp — the purple pane ! 

Oh, mockery of my woe ! 

Come, sheety cloud, 

This cold, proud world enshroud; 

For all is dead. 

All virtue here hath vanished : — 



64 



"tnu WAl'CHKR 



Ah, I could weep no tear, no tear, 

Upon von virgin bier — 

Xo burning tear, — 

Upon the burthen of von bier ! 




SOUL-BLIXDXESS. 65 

Abysmal deeps, engulf me. 
And hidden currents, whirl 
What's worst of me to doubly 
Dire perdition ! 

There's little 
Left in me of that 
Divine pure fire which solves 
And unifies in one 
Essential spirit-whole 
The actual passing life 
And the energizing, full, 
Complete ideal, sublime 
And archetypal. 

If conscience, 
Then, be leaving me. 
Be quitting now, when most 
In need, — weak, unstable 
Me ! — perjured me ! — 
There's wreck in the moral world. 
And Antichrist is king ! 



66 EXCESS.* 

Bury me deejD in a grave^ oh, 
And cover it over with snow, oh, 

For — a ha, lia, lia, and a lio, ho, ho,- 
Tliis is too merry a world, oh! 

Carry me up on a cliff, oh. 
And off of it heartily throw, oli, 

For — a ha, ha, ha, and a ho, ho, lio,- 
Tliis is too jolly a life, oh ! 

Drop me into the sea, oh, 
xlnd religiously let me be, oh. 

For — a ha, ha, ha, and a ho, ho, hof 
I am too happy entirely, oh ! 

Build me a funeral pyre, oh. 
And burn me up in the fire, oh. 

For — a ha, ha, ha, and a ho, ho, ho,- 
Tliis glee will be fatal to me, oh ! 

* SoDg from an unpublished romance. 



LOVE-SONXET. 67 

When aiigr}^ thought-floods seethe within my mind. 

Thy presence, Cara, always is to me 

An oil (of roses) on this raging sea ; 
Thy voice, the wild-birds' warl)ling, soul-refmed, 
Or soft, melodious psalm borne by the wind, 

In soothing accents breathes sweet sympathy ; 

Thy touch, thy glance, — ah, every jot of thee — 
Is some glad, bowered avenue, flower-lined, 

Down to the genuine heart I so adore ; 
And, as a phosphorescent sea when blows 

A lively breeze from some night-covered shore, 
Thy face now glows with quiet smiles, now shows 

An inner nature strangely vague and deep. 

Where prophecy and intuition sleep. 



63 THE DAWX OF HOPE. 

;|c ^ ;{: 

* * ^ To the unfortunate vSelf -seeking and fate- 
bound person, the thought that the more fortunate, who 
seem to have reached their attainments or possessions 
without effort, may also have Umitations, woes and 
despairs, conies sometimes as a ray of hope indicating 
undreamt-of possibilities and calling forth from him a 
free endeavor to rise out of his present enthralment. 

1. 

Tn the shadows of time was a sea, 
A symbolic, 4ierylli lie sea, 

Where mist-pliantomed crags jutted o'er 

Populous stretches of shore 
Tliat were tliick-peopled reaches of care, 
Vor sodden-eved i^nerty there 
Looked lip with a self-seeking prayer^ 
J.o()k(>(l down and around in despair, 

And, as ever, its own burden bore. 



Yet tlie people, uplifted at times, 
TTeard mellifluous, mystical chimes. 

Which upfloated airily free 

From the cavernous cliffs by that sea; 



THE DAWN OF HOPE 69 

But the sweetly fantastical tones 
Found a sad contrast in the moans, 
Found a sore contrast in the groans, 
From the low-lying shore of the sea. 



They were mimes, unceasingly mumliling 
And sullenly mutterino- and 2Tuml)lino", 
Who kept rolling tlie mellow-toned notes 
From the great bells^ eloquent tliroats; 
But their muttering, dowai-sweeping where well: 
Tlie dull-sounding moan, the sound swells, — 
While the sonorous wealth of the hells 
Like a seraphic choral o'ertloiits. 

4. 

Still the sliore-dwellers oft lieard the sound 
Of the hells, as they went tlie old round 
Of the burdens before which they quailed, 
Of the life they so sorely bewailed; 
And they heard, too, back of the chimes. 
The sullen complaint of the mimes 
And bethought them, at hyaline times. 
It w^a$ some like themselves that bewailed. 



1 



yo THE DAWN OF HOPK 



Siicji tliought ill thij^ Fate-governed plaee 
Was a ray from tiie deific graee ; 

xViid, in tinu% to this sad people^s eyes 
Hope opened new spheres and new skies : 
They walked on a more pliant Earth 
And felt in themselves all the wortli 
They were wont to ascribe but to birth ; 
They worked — witli a strange toucli of mirth- 
x\nd sought not for aught from the skies. 

6. 

Tlie welkin and deep and weird sea^ 

It had seemed, were ne^er to be free 
Of the dissonance harbored so long, 
Of the discord deplored as a wrong; 

But now out of the erstw^hile despair 

And into the heart of the air, 

Dispelling the dissonance there, 

A melody welled, and swelled heavenward- 
Thrilled into song ! 



SELF-COMPEEHEXSiO^^ 7 1 

Dull, thunderous mutterings edged the nether 
worlds 
At last shrank ^lan aghast — tlie l)lasting shraek 
Shrieks thought paralytic- — hearts crack — 

A spastic ]iour ! the spawn shall he outhurled ! 

But, deep into a secret centre whirled, 
Enforniing energies, heneath tlie wrack, 
Soft potencies, 'mid swirl demoniac, 

N^'ow act, and lo I the Acme of tlie World : 

Tlr organic life — hrute, swooning Nature's goal; 
Tlie nohle form — aAvakcned Xature's quest ; 

The thought-horn speech — i)ond of the civil whole; 
The Rational Soul — the master manifest. 

Surmounted Xature passed like thunder-sound: 

The Soul surveyed itself with glance profound ! 



72 FIRE. 

God is a living fire, old wisdom taught. 

I take this taper, light with it another — 
Xo change whatever in the tirst is wTOught : 

I spend my spirit on a needy hrotlier, 
Yet is my spirit wliole. its diminution naught. 

God said, Let tliere l)e Light; and gods awoke 
And lit a world to life with their pure flame, 

And shone there'mid in peace, till Something hroke 
The silent spell ; whereon disturl)ed became 

Tliey all — uneasy for a cliange; yet ^twas God 
spok(\ 

And in the cliange that thereni)OJi began — 
The lighting of world after world to life — 

They last a dark, gross, spheral world did plan 
And passed down into ways of stress and strife. 

That through all l)eing they might rise free-souled 
to Man. 

This darkling globe in which tlu^ gods immured 
Themselves in search of being, fuller, higher, 

And which through inyrijid ages hath endured, 
] find is even yet sustained by Fire — 

Ethereal Principle to ken of sense obscured. 



FIRK 73 

Throughout its seeming dead and formless crust 
The Light-horii atom-eonstellatious swing; 

And slione into by more of Light, and thrust 
Forth into form, tlie crystal — thought and thing 

Xow one — bears- huml)le witness to the Fire august. 

And so the plant, tlie animal and man — 
Successive reaches of tlie eml^odied Liglit — 

Bear witness to the richly ordered plan, 
Loye-kindled, wliich doth seek to so unite 

All things that each in other its own self may scan. 

And that before wliich these do witness bear. 
The Light itself, doth see itself in all. 

All in itself, and grow with joy aware 
That its own generation from the Fall 

Is rising free, full-wise, immaculately fair. 



74 SITrEE]\IACY 



What though the somhre sequence of a hostile, 
circumstantial chain of happenings 
(as if a disincorporating world, 
filing off upon tlic centered microcosm 
tlie riffraff of disjointed ill) 

Assail tlie sacred precincts of tlie princely 
soul and press upon the citadel, 

Shall tlie soul quail? Can aught loithont 
confound the regency that rose and holds 
from the calm, high spirit? can aught without 

confound 
th^ organic fundament and active source 
of fluent, solvent life and the plastic world, — 
the delegate divine of a sovereign power 
that images and interacts with God? 



2. 



AVhat though the fiercely surging tidal impulse 
of the underlying, turhid source 
of incarnating and evolving soul, 
a sea of germic frenzy, 



SUPREMACY , 75 

Af^pirc vandalically — leap like ilvnd 

of direst evil on the quiet soul — 

lasli it in a devilish rage— and then^ 

insatiate, lick with rabid passion-tongues 

the lambe]it emp3Tean spirit-fire; — 
Cannot tlic gentle flame insinuate, 

witli soft iXTsistence, its fine, dividing and 

disintegrating angles — nullify 

by essence-eoninunution all the fury 

of the limbic and matricial sea — 

and, timeless, spaceless, pulse with purest light. 

in primal legislative glory ? 



76 O FATllEll OF LIGHT! 



Father of Liglit, thou wlio art and not wat^t, 
Thou wlio abidest^ with the when and the where in 

thy bosoni^ 
Thou who continuest, sublime and inettable, 
Out of spaee^ out of time: 
We grope abnost in the nighty in tlie night, — 
Be with us, Father, our Father ! 



Thou thinkest, Lord, and thy thought is tliy will ; 
Thou Avillest, Lord, and thy will is thy love; 
Thou lovest, Lord, and thy love is the birth of 

thy creature; 
Thou thinkest and wiliest and lovest, Lord, 
And thou art the life and the liglit of his spirit: 
We stumble, Father ; sustain us ! 

3. 

Forgive us, Father beloved, if we through the 
mist 

Of our thinking believe we can pierce to thy wis- 
dom. 



O P'ATHER OF LIGHT! 77 

\A'e feci we are l)roken and sundered, 
Our sight is a seeing at night, 
But we cherisli a spark of thy spirit — 
We feel we are made in thy image — and say we 
can It note : 
Forgive us, Father beloved ! 



Father, our Father most truly, to thee dotli the 

heart 
Of thy creature revert witli an infinite trust. 
Turn back with an infinite faith; for we know, 

Father, 
Our Father, that back of and over our Fall 
Shone a glory of spiritual light — thy bcnison, 

Father, — 
Father, our Father most truh ! 



5. 



And though we liave fallen, Fatlier, we know 
That the fatal defect arose from tliy fostering love; 
We see, through the mist of our thinkin: 
By the light of thy spirit within us, 



JO* 



78 O FATHER OF LIGHT 



Tliat i]\v \)i\{h\\i\y csscjitinl to glory — is pain^ — 
Father, our Father most truly ! 



6. 



To be passive receivers of being, Father beloved^ 
Even from thee, were to render us alien to thee, 
Dependent and hollow and vain; but to be, iude- 

feasibly 
Be, we must traverse the pathway of pain, through 

earth-lives 
Of error and sin, to knowledge of self — and of 

thee, — ^ 
Father, our Father most truly ! 



Thus sliould we, Father beloved, bear Avitness 

indeed 
To tlie light that shone o'er the primal beginning 
And will shine o'er thy creatui-e transfigured, thy 

creature self -knowing. 
Self-active, self-governing, free, eternally free, 
One-natured with thee, adoring, and grounded in 

thee, 
Father, our Father most truly ! 



STAE-WOELDS. 79 

weird Chaldean star-worlds ! ye 
To me are more than diamond light 
To grace tlie brow of mankind's night, 
More than slavish, drudging spheres 
For signs and seasons, days and years. 

Unvarying and without haste, 
EoUing, rolling, through the eternal. 
Space-unbound world-vapor waste, 
Without a place, without a date. 
Obeying each the word supernal. 
Fulfilling each the ordained fate; 

To me, who rise but aye to fall. 
Ye are liigh symbols of that Cause 
Whence comes the miglity chain of laws 
AMiich makes the fate of the meanest one 
A factor in the fate of all ; 

To me, who rise l)iit aye to fall, 
Ye are a universal sun 
Illuming all the darkness in my soul, 
Scattering all the wild divinings, 
P>lind demands and vague n^pinings; 



8o 



STAR-WORLDS 



To me, who rise but aye to fall, 

Ye are a mighty open seroU 

Whereon I read : Be vast, Earth-dweller, 

Be thou a eircmnstance-compeller, 

Go grandly onward to the goal. 




FLEE, FLEE, :\[Y SOUL! 8i 

1. 

Flee, flee, my Soul ! 
For there's little for thee 

In this lurid and turhulent world: 
Its feelings and issues 
Are alien to thee. 

Its idols are spirits downhurled. 



Flee, flee, my Soul ! 
flee and be free 

From the raneors that ceaselessly pain thee; 
For why shouldst thou stay. 
When thou eouldst be free 

From the straits and the fates that constrain 
thee? 



Flee, flee, my Soul ! 
AAHiy an eremite be. 

In a life that is void of achievings? 
For thy efforts are vain, 



82 FI.KE, FLKE, O MY SOUL ! 

And what good can tliere be 

In these infinite thwartino^ and arievinos? 



Flee, flee, my Sonl ! 

To the light thou dost see, 
The violet light of yon land ; 
For as aether to air 

Js the light thou dost see, 

To the luridness here on this strand. 



Flee, flee, my Soul ! 

To the land thou dost see; 

^Tis the land of reliefs and completions, 
And the fair and the rare 
AAlio are there thou wilt see 

And commune with to sweetest repletions 



G. 



Flee, flee, my Soul ! 
What! wilt not ])e free? 



FLEE, FLEE, O MY SOUL ! 



83 



Is tluTc auglit in these tliwartiugs and 
grieviiigvS^ 
This infinite pain. 

It's no gain to be free? 

Dear Soul, reveal thy perceivings ! 




84 IMOTHEII OF THE 8KY. 

Beautiful ^Mother of the Sky^ with thy .silver 
light make glad the tired eyes of the poor toilers of 
the weary days; turn for them the hard aspect of 
common things into a fairyland of glory where the 
free thouoht mav flasli its Avav liere and tliere and 
revel in the ravelings of its loosened texture of 
despair. 

Jlotlier, ^Fotlier of the Deep Xiglit-Sky, may thy 
heniguant liglit sink into the hearts hardened hy 
self-seeking and become there a liglit of love which 
shall^ like thy lights shine upon all; and so shall 
the lover of self Iosjg himself^ only to find himself 
seated^ enthroned with the truly great^ in the 
world's wide hall. 



i 



THE PIUCE. 85 

A tumbled mass of jagged, ragged rocks; 

A wind-swept, dreary plain all round al)out ; 
A Youth, new come, with genius' noble air; — 

Three scyawnij, irliishered Imys limij mamhling 
out! 



The stranger, shocked, would leave the haunted 
spot ; — 
One whistles shrill between her tongue and 
tooth ; — 
He turns, — and she in jarring accents screeches : 
"Stay I and love for love I'll give thee, youth !'' 



He speechless stands and strives to quell liis scorn; 

Tliey croucli down in the shelter of a rock; 
One liolds him witli lier rheumy eyes, and croaks: 

^'And I for wealth will wealth to thee unlock I" 



His fierce disgust has now near warped his soul — 
He would on them turn back the ills they 
wreak ; — 

One skewers him with her pointing skinny arm 
And hisses : ^'I for fame the fame you seek !'' 



86 ruM PRICE 

A-8hu(ldcT now at tlu'sc symbolic words, 
His very fear emboldens him to speak; 

But speak he cannot — a something seals his lips,- 
His very lieart has grown a-cold and bleak. 

One leering crone now pulls her flabby ears; 

Oiu; rul)s luT hanging nose and cackles mocks; 
()ne, grinning, claws the bristles on lier chin; — 

All mumbling, mowing, vanish 'mid the rocks. 



i 



ILLUSION. 87 

To a 'beauteous isle in a southern sea 

A restless spirit transported me. 

An isle o'ercappecl ivitli a pleasure-palace 

And lapped in languorous airs from the sea 

Full-laden ivith largess of many a chalice 

Lolling, stveet-lipped, in garden and lea 

Here terraced, there sloping far off to the sea. 



Ere wc had touclied the marble pier 

Soft music filled the atmosphere^ 

Foretokening all that isle did hold 

Of beauties^ radiant^ manifold. 

I hoped to dwell there evermore, 

Yet pensively I stepped ashore, 

Pensively, for naught conld shake 

The sad trend that my thoughts would take. 

I wandered here and there awhile, 

Then sought the summit of the isle. 

I passed within the palace doors 

And wondering trod the dazzling floors; 

I went among the merry crew 

Whom Pleasure's witchery thither drew, 

And then, at last, in that maze of folly 

Tried to lose my melancholy; 



88 ILLUSION 

But, plagued at length l)y a haunting clouht, 
I soarehed the enelianting ])laee thi'oughout : 

In air-pitched halcony, flower-scented bower, 
noney-moiithed lover wooed coy, hlushing dame; 
In self-centered mood, on a world-scan nlmj lower, 
A satisfied witling stood, musing on fame : 
In the l-eep, on a pallet, neglected and cold, 
A I'in-hereaved grayheard lay driveling in fear, 
With eyeballs turned sidewise toward Death at his 

ear; 
And a scrimp in the hold ivas worshiping gold. 

Pondering the:^e few types of what 
Was passing in that ])alaee fair, 
I slowly left the speeious spot 
And sought tlie glorious outer air. 
Wandering tliere, all tliouglitful, lonely, 
T niurniured, '^ 'Tis illusion only. 
Wlien spirit-life doth senseward surge. 
Earth greets a dupe or thaunuiturge.^^ 

On tlie Jiiarhle eoping of a terraee wall 
I sat and gazed u})on the sea, 
And asked myself if this were all 



ILLUSION 89 

This lovely isle could hold for me — 

This thirst for nectar in a dream, 

This thirst for things that merely seem. 

It may, I mused, foretoken clearly 

The thirst for springs that deeper lie, 

And to their waters lead more nearly 

Tliese foolish seekers, hy-and-l)y; 

But tlie love tliat hums in the finger-tips, 

Tlie amhition that yearns at host through the lips. 

The desire for life at tlie soul's expense, 

Tlie greed for money, hlind, intense, — 

Oh, what are these to the soul that's free — 

What, what are these poor things to me ! 

Here, on this terrace wall, I stand, 

And oil tlie grandeur of the sea. 

The peerless heauty of the land. 

The mystery of the infinite sky, 

I look with loviug eye and cry: 

^^Oli, Sea, Land, Sky, he part of me. 

Sink deep down in the heai't of me. 

Commingle with my inward dreams. 

Displace my longings, lesser lights. 

That T may — 'mid all this that seems, 

^fay — from all foreign fetters free — 

Eeturn to those rich davs and nio'hts 

1/ o 



90 II.I.USION 

Ere "gainst your ph3^sical delights^ 

Your grandeur^ beauty^ luysterj'^ 

I learned to set eontrastingly 

These petty thouglits and doubts of things, 

Tliese gropings and tliese glimmerings 

With you as part of me once more 

^ly spirit knoAvs no l)ounding sliore : 

Free! free! I stand, and l)end to none 

But llim. tlie All-pervasive One, 

Yet in my s])irit is there naugiit 

Of pride, but rather is tliere Avrought 

That iniracle of sympatliy, 

A tender, calm humility/^ 

I ceased^ and in my soul did play 
Tlie streamers of a coming day — 
I looked again on land^ sky, sea 
And hnew them but a part of me; 
They — like the illusory palace-life 
And objects of desire and strife, 
Nay, like the builded faery pile 
Itself^ or like the lover's smile — 
Were but expressions of a 1)eing 
Deeper, Taster far than they. 
From me, me blind but all-foreseeing, 



ILI.USIOX 91 



Tliesc mighty tilings tliat I survey 
Did come, shall go, may come again ; — 
Can T, tlien, in tliis pleasure-pen. 
This dream witliin a dream, a1)ide? 

Xo, no. let me he side hv side 
And en rapport witli strenuous souls, 
Higli-striving, seeing things 1)y wholes ; 
Let me l^e where across the sweep 
Of common things deep unto deep 
May call and with a tender care 
Work out tliat end heyond compare, 
The lighting of the aimless way 
Of those who walk in darkness, nay 
Tlie adding to the gladdening sum 
Of things for those who are to come. 

Leaving then the terrace wall, 
Unmindful of the hopes and all 
That led me to this lovely isle. 
And with a long-unwonted smile — 
The smile of one whose way is clear— 
T sought again the marble pier. 



92 A VISIOX or DEGREES. 

I sailed upon a mystic sea. 

And sad-faced beings^ marked by doom. 
Clutched their bosoms and kept pace 

Witli me within the water-gloom. 

Each strove his neighbor to outdo, 
Each seemed to look me through and through, 
As if lie sought to penetrate 
The meaning of my kindlier fate. 

A pompous figure curled his lip 

And looked me loftily in the eye; — 

In him no sense of fellowship — 
I, hopeless, left him, with a sigh. 



CONSOLATION.* 93 

Xo more, my dear, 110 more, 110 more, 

Shall tlie prying eyes of saucy day 

Ouj- sacred, sweet unrest survey, 

On love's deep sea or life's disheartening shore; 

Xo more shall immelodious note 

In on our living music float. 

There's little leave for loving here. 

There's little time for more than tears, 

But, now tliou'rt gone forever, dear, 

Ilow^ever wxarily Avill creep 

Tlie lonely, lingering, tedious years, 

We'll nightly meet, with faith unfailing, dear, 

Down in the silent vale of sleep. 

We'll meet heneath the willow there. 
The silver willow all alone. 
Within the silent vale of sleep; 
Beside the slumberous river there. 
We'll meet alone, all, all alone, 
Down in the Idissful vale of sleep. 



* Song from an unpublished roijiimce. 



94 LOVE. 

Arclimaster of the mightiest niiiids^ 

Divine attraction^ hol}^ rage^ 

Love rules the world aud all its kinds, 

Peoples our life-hermitage 

With Beauty's forms and shadowings — 

Projections of diviner things. 

If you have never loved^ my friend, 
You little know what living means, 
You have not looked behind the scenes 
And outward shows that constitute 
The common lot that living gleans, 
You cannot nearly comprehend 
The music of that cosmic lute 
Which leads us, willing, in pursuit 
Of a never-ending end. 



\ 



WHAT GIVES THE SUFFEREK 95 
STRE Jf GTH ? 

Life seenis^ indeed^ as certain poets teach^ 

A futile wandering in a wilderness ; 
Yet, from this wretched life of mine upreach 

High yearnings which no soul that suffered less 
Could feel — no Paradise en spirit into speech. 

But ye tliat suffer and are silent^ ye 
Forever straining at the thingy mass 

That unopposed would your destroyer be^ 
What brings your fortitude to such a pass 

That^ cramped and tortured^ ye yet stay to strug- 
gle free? 

If I — despite the fact that my sad lot 

Doth bear high yearnings that enkindle me 

To rouse their like in those that know^ them no^^^ — 
At times but little use in life can see^ 

What gives the silent sufferer strength^ — endur- 
ance^ what? 



96 THE IXCOMPLETl^, 



In a weird, iiniianiod and shadowy land 
1 walked along a winding strand, 
Slimy strand, thick-strewn witli hones 
Halt liid within the ooze of years. 
With sunken ponip^ with hroken thrones^ 
Sad relics of men's hopes and fears. 

(Here's matter in pletity to re-arrange, 
But he ware of the genii, Chance and Change.) 
I walked tliere ^neatli a grewsome sky 
And gazed out o'er tlie gloomy water: 
I too liad songlit Fame — now mused on why 
1 had so much desired and sought her; 
Tlien came a rusli like a geyser's gush, — 
I felt a shuddering dizziness, — 
I turned, and there a liuddling press 
Of haggard forms, who slowed their pace^ 
Stood still and stared ]ne in the face. 
Then wheeled around with a sighing sound 
iVnd hurried hack into murky space. 
{Where, in the feverish, fruitless quest, 
Wliere the nepentlie for liaunting unrest?) 
Alone u]X)n that inystic shore 
I stayed to muse, and more and more 
TTpon my sorrowing soul did heat 
The sadness of the Tncom])lete: 
The pain intolerahle grown, 
I then did from that strand retreat 
And leave to grief and gloom their own. 



SOKKOAV-LADEX.* 97 

'^^Oh;, where is the heart that is sorrow-hiden ?'^ 
"Here/^ said the maiden^ forlorn^ forlorn^ 
"Here is the heart that is sorrow-laden : 
Oh, woe is me ! that I ever was born.'^ 

"Is there naught that can lighten the load of thy 

sorrow^ T^ 
"Ah, no; ah, no/^ cried the maiden forlorn, 
"There^s naught that can lighten the load of my 

sorrow : 
Oh, woe is me ! that I ever was born." 



"But there's peace in the world God's will to ful- 
fill." 
"x\h, yes; ah, yes," cried the maiden forlorn, — 
"The cliff it is steep, and the wave it is still : 
Oh, woe is me ! that I ever was born." 



* Song from an unpublished romance. 



98 S01<iG^ 

Turn, oil turn, (liose eyes ui)on mc, 
Search ]iiy sours dark^ louesoiiie uiglit- 
This is I^ my love, my liglit ! 

Do but deign to smile upon me. 
And I straioht am star-bedio'lU — 
This is I^ my love, my light ! 



P'rom an uncompleted drama 



WALTHxOI AXD MARGEA. 99 

Part I. 
Scene: — A Deserted Mansion and the Remains of a 
Magnificent Garden on tlie Ontsl'irts of a Uni- 
versity Town. 
Persons: — Waltham, a young instructor in Philos- 
ophy, Margra, his betrothed. 
Waltham. 
(Entering the garden, for his customary afternoon 

walk and meditation.) 
A puppet I ? — a mere machine ? — a thing 
Without inherent power — without the spring 
Of free^ autonomous action; here and there 
Compelled my aspirati'ons to forswear; 
In cold and staring silence forced to find 
The full refulgence of th^ ecstatic mind 
Abate unto the heavy light of day 
Or e^en the pale death-light upon decay ; 

Constrained^ through some tenacious race-persis- 
tence 

In some narrow, dull, material groove, 

To feel and think and act and onward move, 

In general, on that line of least resistance? 

In crystal periods, when some burst of power 

Crowds archangelic vision in an hour. 

And from the H>ummit of a flight Buhliiuo 

LofC. 



lOO WAI^THAM AND MARGRA 

I fling my winged soul, through vague out-places, 

Off into arcane, nascent spaces. 

In ageless, alphane time. 

Just as the unfolding spirit doth begin 

To solve the mystery of the origin 

Of things, and with unbounded joy I burn, — 

Constrainedly I turn — 

And there, in hard outlines, a hideous thing — 

Stone still, or passing backward, beckoning ! 

The rearward glance hath cost the angelic sight ! 

A soft illumination stays, whose light 

Eeveals a something not myself which ever 

Beckons onward, outward, starry bright, 

Adding beauty unto beauty, 

Pausing never, 

Waiting for me never; 

And yet, it seems, the farther out I chase 

This beauteous phantom in the world-light in me, 

The stronger rise retarding-things to win me 

Back — to stare that monster in the face ! 

{He timis and sees Margra hy the dilapidated 
fountain tvhere, slightly obscured hy the ranh 
plants, she has heen standing since he entered 
the enclosure and began to ivalk, loith folded 
arms, tli ought fully and sadly to and fro on the 



WAI.THAM AND MARGRA lOI 

short path tangent to the circular hasin, he- 
fore iinbtirdening his tronhled mind in this 
impassioned soliloquy.) 
Ah ! Margra^ thou here ? 

(He hastens to her and takes her hand.) 
I little thought to see thee here to-day — 
And thou so near I 

How was't no subtile sympathies did course 
From those dark eyes, no potent, speaking force 
From this superb embodiment, and say: 
"Thy Margra's here?'^ 

Margra. 
I came to Avalk with thee and talk with tliee — 
I knew I^d find thee here. 

Waltham. 
Some sister angel told thee so ; 
Or, perchance ,last night our souls did meet 
And rapturously read the rapid come-and-go 
Of fire-emblazoned thoughts that voiceless rose 
Within the radiant soul-sphere, and in the sweet 
Discourse to one another did di:;close 
Our mingled destinies from day to da}^, 
And these prophetic visions, dark to me. 
Still shine in thee with undiminished ray. 
My Margra, oft I^e thought that thou and T, 



I02 WAI.THAM AND MARGRA 

Discarding this earth-treading mask of clay 

AMiicli plummet- like down from an archal sk}"^ 

Hatli plunged, the God-born spirit's tenement, 

Have drifted out into tlie boundless deep, 

And there the clouds about our souls have rifted, 

And in the burst of glory o'er us sprent 

We have awaked as from an age-long sleep, 

And vision after vision then exalting 

lis until once more we left behind 

Our forms, our shadow-forms, tlie Deep o'ervault- 

ing 
Us evanished: — a spirit unconfined 
I was — thou w^ast — and thou and I, my love, 
Apart no more, were one. 

Margea. 
You're too ideal, Henry; you see in me 
Xot what I am, but what you'd have me be. 

Waltham. 
Turn not from me, Margra, listen to me : — 
I see things as they are, not as they seem ; 
The world-supporting potencies pass through me 
From Being's Fountainhead ; the calm, still stream 
My soul impedes but slightly in its course — 
It does not strike against me as a wall 
And pile up W'itli its full, majestic force 



WALTIIAM AND MARGRA 103 

(hxat airy Bothiiigness wliicli, when tlio wall 
Hath crumbled, once again niust formless fall 
Into the ever-flowing fountain-stream. 

How can you lovi^-^— they say tliat lovers a dream. 

WALTITA:\r. 

Dost thou not know liow I can love 

I who before thy first sweot whisperings 
Of love for ]ne, had touched no book 
And shunned a lecture for a look 
From thee, until my pupils, restless grow^n 
Vrere leaving ]n.e and (lra]j])ling angel-wings 
In mire of logic, atom, flesh and bone? 
How caji I lo\x'?— ah, this from thee? 
They say that love's a dream— a dream— 

A mere lip-worthy, poetaster theme? 

Thy beauty, Margra, is to me 
As real as is thy soul to thee, 
As real as is that perfect thing 
Of which thou art a shadowino- — 
That shining Form which silent lies 
Out of sight of human eyes; 
Thy grace and beauty are a part 
Of my own make-ui3— what thou art 
Am I ; and Beauty, Grace and Love 



I04 WAI.THAM AND MARGRA 

Are one; then what more real can be, 
My Margra^ than the love I feel for thee ? 

Margra. 
I understand you not — I understand you not I 
{Moves slotvhj aivay.) 

Waltham. 
Margra ! what can I say — 

dearest one^ I bid thee stay ! 

Margka. 
Why stay ? To liear you talk — ''\x mere machiue' "— 
Because you must? 

Walthai^i. 
What would you have? This pains me to the heart. 

Margra. 
I'd have you ^^stare that monster in the face'^ 
And learn by contrast human woman's grace! 

Waltham. 
K tear? a tear in that dark eye? 
Tell me^ dearest^ wliv, oh why ! 

Margra. 

1 tell thee^ Henry^ woman's heart is deep — 

Waltham. 
Yea, the heart's the well-spring of a world. 

Margra. 
And woman's love can life-long watches keep, 



WAI^THAM AND MARGRA IO5 

With patient, circled eyes and broken sleep — 

Waltham. 
Yea^ love's the mute word of a mighty will. 

Margra. 
And woman's brain can throb with fever-fire^ 
To grant an underbreath of love's desire — 
And woman's mind is as a lyre love-strnng. 
Tense and instinct with wealth of songs unsung— 
Xay, Henry, she can give up all God gave 
And lay her down for love's sake in the grave. 

VrALTHAM. 

But can she fan to flame the glowing thouglit 

And lead the inward-centered mind to aught 

That's everlasting, true^, eternal — 

Can she light her lamp at fire supernal 

And set it in that reflex, gloomy den 

Far down within the immortal hearts of men ? 

Margra. 
Woman cannot understand, and would not, 
A love that calls on logic to defend it; 
And what a woman's love could do, or could not, 
'Tis sure, an act like that is ajDt to end it. 

Waltham. 
Can woman understand, or take a part 
In the proud iuterests of a poet's heart? 



I06 WAI^THAM AND MARGRA 

Can woman nnderstand the art that tells 

Of the wondrous realms of Form and Tlionght — 

Can she feel its grandenr^ recks she aught 

Of the god-like power tliat in it dwells? 

Margra. 
If that art find a root in my own life, 
And draw not, like the air-plant, from the air— 
If I could feel it living, growing, there, — 
Then could I, Henry, be your loving wife ; 
But though you scale the highest heights of art, 
And send no living rootlet to my heart. 
Then would that lofty art a barrier be 
Between the sweetening light of love and me : 
Should I in shadow, like a fungus, grow, 
I'd grow as bitter as tlie bitter shx\ 

Waltha:^e. 
The poet needs a wealth of sympatliy 
Wherewith to shape his flitting, vague creations 
And his a tranquil, quiet life must be. 
His soul to hear the faint reverberatious 
Of the Word from sphere to sphere. 

jMargra. 
The one I wed no voice but mine shall hear. 

Waltham. 
Self-wilTs a ]^ower iu this proud world alone; 



WALTHAM AND MARGRA 107 

The world of perfect form and angel tliouglit 
Doth hold our earthly will or will-not naught: 
The Perfect Form can haunt a soul downthrown ; 
The still, small Voice- can reach a heart of stone; 
Then can the poet liimself in self ensphere 
And say, I will not sec^, 1 will not hear? 

IMakgka. 
Oh, these voices, visions, Henr}^ dear ! 
Thy hateful books have made thee sick, 1 fear. 

AA^VLTllAM. 

No, no, no, my Margra, no, not sick; — 
Something incongruous pricks jue to the quick. 
There's canker here, and stinging nettles tliere, 
xlnd ugly weeds and misgrowths everywhere. 
Corruption-marks, upon this Garden's face — 
Sad obsession of a beauteous place 
Of regal landscape-form and flower-grace! 
And in yon warping mansion blind decay 
Doth lurk, and wear the weary years away. 
The canted chimneys — loosened clapboards — 
Sagged verandas — broken railings — 
The displaced steps and blistered door- 
Yon shutter hanging downward by one hinge- 
Great dripping stains from rusted nail-heads. 
Shutter-hooks and shutter-hinges. 



io8 waltham and margra 

Like marks of senile teart> upon the livid 
Visage of a hag — 
Is this not irritation? 
Is not this vexation? 

Margra. 

What means this gloomy^ nervous mood to-day ? 

Waltham. 
Evil beings all about us lurk 
To eatch us at a nadir-time 
And trip us in their murk and slime. 

Margra. 
(With tears in her eyes) 
Am I an evil beings Henry ? 

Waltham. 
(Steps to her and takes her hand) 
Forgive me, Margra; pain me not with tears 
In those soft eyes of thine. 
If in my spirit rise dark, wildering fears. 
Grim, elemental shadows, beckoning-things. 
Eidolons, proffering wings and niagie rings 
And pointing backward through chaotic years. 
They're exorcised by this dear self of thine; 
And if there's aught of clogging, earth-commingl- 
ing 



WAI.THAM AND MARGRA 109 

Humour in any vein or nerve of mine, 

^Tis quickly scattered by the best-outsingling, 

Subtile aura from this sweet hand of thine. 

Margra. 
Thou'rt now thyself^ my Henry ; why^ say why 
Such thoughts ? Thou mad'st me sigli, thou mad'st 

me cry — 
And were it not of all grave acts the gravest, 
I should have given thee back the ring thou gavest. 

Waltham. 
^Tw^as but my Season's mad intensity 
Contemplating Love's immensity: 
The Universal Life my self subverting, 
'Twas but my self her freedom still asserting. 

Margra. 
Thou lov'st me, Henry? Canst thou of that per- 
suade me, 
I'll store thy honey-words within my heart, — 
I'll live, a queen, within thy jealous Art. 

WALTHA.M. 

I, Margra, am what love and thought have made 

me. 
Wliat gives my thoughts their spirit-wings? 
What teaches me deep, world-old things 



no WAI.THAM AND MARGRA 

First taiiglit in angcl-visitings? 
^Tis but my love and that rejmid me. 

Dearest^ oft to me it seems 

That my soul-stirrings, flashings, dreams^ 

Do augur that the underlying, 

Universal Mind is trying 

To assert with foree its own, 

Plaee an Isis on the throne 

Of my being and reveal 

What my intellect alone 

Must disfigure or conceal. 



■^to' 



At times, it seems I pass the pale 

Of mere incarnate spirit's sphere ; 

At times, it seems I ])ierce tlie veil 

AYhich hides the Keal from dwellers here. 

I've scoured the Ptolemaic skies, 

I've risen to the empyrean, 

I've been where great Archaeus llrs, 

I've listened to a heavenly paean. 

But, when o'er our love doth fall 
Fate's misty darkness, like a pall ; 
Or as Mnemosyne's starbright night, 



WALTHAM AND MARGRA I 1 1 

With its suns and planets and thou its moon 
Eclipsed by the counterfeit-death of a swoon : 
Then^ it seems that I grope and crawl 
Through a murky world^ witli a glow-worm'^ 

light ; 
Or the hideous gloom seems to cover all^ 
And I feel my way in a slow-worm's night. 

So^ thinking often a sibyl-thought^ 
And thinking often that life is nought, 
Unsunned by thy love^ uncrowned with thy crest, 
V\e longed — in a maddening, maelstrom wdiirl, 
In a frantic, dizzying spirit-swirl — 
I^^e longed for the ever-lessening unrest, 
I've longed for the ever-deepening thought, 
Out of the Earth-sphere, on with the best. 

Margra. 
Henry, canst thou these things feel and see. 
Then turn thyself again to only me? 

WALTfIA]\r. 

Only thee ! I tell thee, Margra, thou to me 
Art as the unrun orbit of the Galaxy : 
With thee, I feel a something grand, but incom- 
plete — 



112 WAI^THAM AND MARGRA 

A bounded power — ah^ sweetly sad — ah^ sadly 
sweet I 

Before I kneAV thee, dear one (was there e^er such 
time?). 

When, on the low lake-marge or mountain-top 
sublime, 

Within my silent chamber or some cold cleft of 
Earth, 

I pondered on the grave, the mystery of birth. 

And the wondrous scheme of Xature and what it 
meant to me, 

I felt a selfish silence the wisest course would be; 

For, to crystallize my thought in written line 

Or clothe it, even, in fleeting speech, alive, divine, 

I felt would be acknowledging my nature bound- 
ed — 

In time, would sign with signified become con- 
founded, 

x\nd I, with every thinking and unthinking clod. 

Should come to pass a judgment on my Spiritual 
God. 

Was I but man as man is now, daft, reasoning- 
mad, — 
Puny groper, clay-chul and reasoning-mad — 



WALTHAM AND MARGRA II3 

Creeping clerk-like here with many a measuring- 
thing, 
'Mid fleeting shadows, labeling, inventorying; 
Then, by summation, involution, evolution. 
Deft transposing, elimination, substitution, 
Eeasoning on (fond mind-and-matter diplomat) 
To some final, universal this-is-that 
Which he the Cosmic Formula doth grandly call. 
The very soul and life-source of the each and all, — 
Was I but man as man is now, thus reasoning- 
mad? 

'Twas then arose the thoughts that would not 

then be spoken, 
'Twas then my heart, the immortal part of me, 

gave token 
Of a potential, demiurgic, world-deep power, 
A bursting power to 'know, awaiting but the hour : 
I would rise from weary reasoning's limitation, 
Imperil selfhood in demonic inspiration. 
And thus imcinct, recall and live each several 

part. 
Once more, of life within the old worlds in my 

heart ; 
And thus, and only thus, should I know all. 



114 WAI^THAM AND MARGRA 

Then did my soul an inward strife endure : 
My intellect — the egoist^ slow but sure — 
Would creep along for ages to the goal ; 
My young-old heart would time itself transcend 
And in a selfless act of alien strength 
Would unfold all things in a dream's length ; 
And so^ betwixt the two^ my perplexed will 
Unstal)le grew^ and more unstal)le still. 

Then often^ night and day, wishing, fearing 

Bounds, I cried, at times when in the inward 

Strife my heart was victor: 

"^^Oh, would my nature had but bounds! 

I am not happy — why is it so? 

Man-child of the Infinite am I — 

Xought obstructs my range of thought, — 

My soul is wearied with her ceaseless choosing, 

Ceaseless chasing of the phantom 

Out into the mystic spaces, — 

Influences from the two spheres 

Pour into me from every side — 

They come I know not wherefore, I kno^^ not 

how — 
Influences of good. 
Influences of evil — 



WALTHAM AND MARGRA II5 

I al)Sorb them — I sympathize with all — 
1 am the human race, 
The low and the divine V 
I was then most miserable, Margra, 
But in my altruistic, powerless state 
Did I conceive a most strange view of things — 
The moral phase then forced itself upon me: 
I felt a loving check and knew the power 
Which held me, as a part of my own self. 
Yet more, beyond expression, than myself; 
And I named the august, cherishing one 
Divine Augoeides, my Guardian Angel. 
Oh, I were at that time golden-tongued. 
Were introspective thought not all of me ! 
I could not act, for too-deep heart-thought 
Had rived my world from that of living jncn. 

And when iiiy in tc fled was uppermost, 
I cried from out my heart : "Oh, why this dark- 
ness. 
This impenetrable, blinding mist; 
Why this sudden wall impeding, piling 
Up, with many a huge froth-mass, and turning 
Backward on myself, the flood of action ?'^ 
But in those moments when my heart was still 



Il6 WAI.THAM AND MARGRA 

I was most happy in the consciousness 

Of feelings acting and of being that 

Which I most felt myself to be — a man^ 

A warm^ substantial, hedonistic man: 

I was myself, blood-full, self willed and centered. 

At this dismembered, analytic time 

Of introspective thought and thirsty life; 

This time of non-commingling elements, — 

Antipathetic molecules — with frantic. 

Centre-fleeing movement — clashing — driven 

Cent rewards, — with fiery spicula 

Of passion shooting meteor-like from now! i ere 

Across the all-containing soul's night : 

At this disordered, disincorporate time. 

Into the dark and limitless alembic 

Of my soul there flowed all-solvent love. 

Essential aqua-regia, seeking one-ness. 

Dost know the source, superb one? 

Margra. 

Thy Margra's heart — thy Margra's love. 

WALTHA]\t. 

Yes, dear; it was; and 'twas most opportune 



WAIvTHAM AND MARGRA II7 

(Spellbound;, I knew my Guardian Angel's 

boon,) — 
For, as some comet with elliptic course, 
Thrown into perturbations wild, perforce 
Doth seek along a hyperbolic path 
An issue from the sun-fear that it hath, 
So I (but for that chance sweet sight of thee 
Whence rose the subtile force that centered me) 
Should soon have quit the orbit of all use, 
Cut myself from all enthrallment loose, 
And sped along ni}^ freakish, self-willed way 
In unfree freedom, thinking thus to stay 
That fatal time w^hen, something higher told me, 
Self should fall, the great One Life enfold me. 

I felt an aw^ful pause, and then the growing 

Centeredness ; it was a silent, selective, 

Germinative time, and soon I felt 

With joy a spirit presence hovering near. 

And turned me here and turned me there at times 

To catch a glimpse of that I felt beside me. 

^^Augoeides divine,'' I one time cried 

Out from my heart, ^^unseal my sodden eyes; 

Reveal to me thy grandeur and thy glory; 

Teach me the mystery of reason, faith 



Il8 WALTHAM AND MARGRA 

And love; and say Avliat meaneth this sweet peaec/^ 

The spirit spoke from deep within my soul: 

^'I am not form — seek me in aiding others 

To a knowledge of themselves. 

Strive to perfeet thyself, 

And I will interpenetrate, 

Become incorporate in, 

The Avelj of things 

And make them of a mind with thee, 

So that thy wdsliing shall be their fulfillment/^ 

Xow, beloved, unperturbed except 

By small, eccentric moments from unknown. 

Incalculable gravities which draw 

iVt times my life from thine, thou love-adept. 

Thou heart of my heart, queen I there enthrone; 

Xow, know 1 the law engrounding law. 

And realize the sacred depths of grace: 

The life within, the life in placeless place — 

Beautiful repose — the gift divine — 

The wondrous solving of the mine and thine — 

The love no object for its love demanding — 

The peace of God, that passeth understanding. 

The concord of my intellect and heart 
Doth seem the fountain of a living Art; 



WAI.THAM AND MARGRA II9 

I think with hearty see with prophetic eyes, 
And to my lips rich thoughts and feelings rise. 
Demanding for their fullness speech-expression 
And for tlieir quickening spirit world-possession : 
I would set free, imprinted with my seal, 
The imprisoned spirit of the Avorld I feel; 
And for the culture in mv heart I^n storino; 
(Ineffable essence of the things inpouring) 
I would make, as I go, my reckoning 
And thus avoid That, backward beckoning; 
For every living, deep, expanding soul. 
In strict return for each new thought or feeling 
Its hidden powers and attributes revealing. 
Part of itself must give unto the Whole. 

Maegra. 
Sometimes I cannot understand thee, dear. 
Yet I believe in thee : in thy soul's sphere 
(To use thy words) I find for all my strange, 
Yague woman's fancies, freaks, free scope and 

range; 
Of all my wealth of love, in thy dear heart 
I feel an everlasting counterpart; 
But what I am and what can be to thee 
Cannot exceed thy worth. 
For tliou art all the world to me. 



I20 WAI.THAM AND MARGRA 

P.^tT IT. 

Scene: — The same, Waltham; Alargra, liis wife; 
and their child, seated beside the old fountain. 



Waltiiam. 
(Almost to himself, reviewing the time when he 

had first met Margra, five years before.) 
I walked here sadly once — a bright, glad day, 
A lingering sense did often afterward say; 
But quite oblivious was I then of all 
The Nature-pulsing spells which here do fall 
On delicate ear and natural, sensitive eye : — 
The meadow-lark^s rich, melancholy call. 
The wild canary's wealth of note on note. 
The treasures of our mocking-bird's full throat, 
Could nothing to my thought -turned ear supply; 
Tlie flowers and winged things that overfloat, 
This plant-grown fount, the rustic seats, the 

walks, 
The warping mansion, the stately treCvS, the hawks. 
And even that, our Californian sky. 
Could not lure out my inward-centered eye. 
I mind me now that nought to me could flow 
From things but some harsh theme of carping 

crow : 



WAWHAM AND MARGRA 121 

The verj^ pattern of the period lay 

In the restless^ squalling bhie-jay. 

I walked here sadly^ when^ on yonder path 

Where sight strains all the virtue that it hath 

On this strange place^ beneath the oak-tree there 

Which bids the sun at noon but warm the air 

xlbout its gnarl-niade^ natural seat^ 

Two soft eyes — dark^ wild-clustering hair — 

A mouth so sweet 

That Art must look^ throb and despair — 

And in love-pencilled curves, a form complete;, — 

Eebuked the sluggish outward sense 

And bade it feel, w^ith reverence, 

Our glorious world's magnificence; 

Aud tiiereupon, relaxed the tense-drawn 

Nerves of thought; 

Til' expanding pupil, larging nare, 

The quickened ear, — heard music rare, 

Breathed Xature in — saw strange, new colors 

In the genial air; 

And tingling sympathy revealed 

Deep natural unisons. 

To outer sense concealed. 

Things came closer, through their comprehension, 

And each glanceful, quick with rapt attention, 



122 WALTHAM AND MARGRA 

Partook, Art-like, of the mind divine. 
There was no glamour in tliese eyes of mine! 
Things came closer and the world Avas nearer, 
Tlr All-harmony centered all, tlie end was clearer. 
That genuine soiil-shaped outward self of thine 
First called the world-soul to these eyes of mine; 
And then, thy whole self, in relation dearer,— 
Thou dearest mother of this child of mine,— 
Thou epitome of the spheral world-design, — 
Evolved a Avorld-soul from that soul of mine. 



THE END. 






c^^ 



SEP 101903 




018 482 353 6 p 



